


Gone to the Dogs

by trillian_jdc



Series: All Good Dogs [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dogs, M/M, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has a creative idea to help his brother hide away -- change him into a dog, and have him entertain Rosie. When Greg Lestrade finds out, he refuses to let Mycroft face a toddler alone.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson
Series: All Good Dogs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823848
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

Greg Lestrade had dropped by 221B Baker Street to get Sherlock's help with a case, but neither the detective nor the doctor was in. Mrs. Hudson kindly pointed the inspector towards a nearby park, where Sherlock had taken Rosie for a Friday afternoon outing. 

The weather was clear and crisp, lovely for a walk, so Greg shrugged and wandered his way down the street. As he got closer, it was easy to pick out the man he was looking for -- Sherlock's height and dramatic presence generally drew eyes. In addition to the toddler, though, Sherlock was accompanied by ... oh, no, he hadn't. Greg swore to himself before breaking into a run. 

He stopped right in front of the taller man. "Sherlock, you can't put Mycroft out in public like this! He's not good at being a dog!" 

Both of them looked at the lean animal, standing in the grass. The ruddy greyhound did seem uncomfortable, but the breed was known to be skittish, so it probably wasn't too much of a tell. 

Greg continued, "And Christ! You've set Rosie on him!" The little girl was happily running around the large dog, reaching out to pet him every so often, although with her energy, it was hard to distinguish her affectionate touches from a light smack. Mycroft simply kept standing still, with a resigned look and his head drooping a bit. Every so often the dog looked toward Sherlock, as if to say "are we quite finished yet?" 

"She's his cover, Lestrade!" Sherlock hissed out of the side of his mouth while keeping an eye on his goddaughter and brother. "Who would believe Mycroft Holmes as a pet?" 

"You're right, I don't believe it. Why'd you do it to him? Again, after last time?"

"He asked for my help. He needed to disappear quickly and without any possibility of being found." Sherlock was pretending to be in charge of the situation, but he and Greg had worked together so long that Greg could tell he wasn't as sure of himself as he wanted to seem. 

Greg looked back at Sherlock, unimpressed. "You sure it wasn't because you wanted help child minding?" 

Sherlock smirked at that. "Watson **has** been remarkably entertained. Perhaps John and I should get a dog." 

"Like you two need any more chaos. Or something else to pawn off on Mrs. Hudson when someone gets murdered. I can't believe that Mycroft asked you to cast a spell on him." 

"He ... wasn't that specific. Upon reflection, he may have been expecting a different kind of help." Sherlock looked just a bit sheepish. 

Greg shook his head and closed his eyes. "Sherlock, I hope you are very grateful that I don't carry a gun." He looked again to the younger Holmes. "How long?" 

"Mycroft expected the situation to be resolved within 24 hours." 

"All right. Get your kid, we're going back to your flat." While Sherlock tussled with Rosie, chasing her a bit before scooping her up in his arms, Greg walked over to the greyhound, who seemed to have blocked out the world in a zen-like attempt to be elsewhere. Greg was careful to approach from the front to avoid spooking the animal. "Hi, Mycroft. Sorry to see you like this."

The dog gave a full-body quiver, coming back to himself, and moved quickly towards his silver-haired friend. Greg crouched down, and Mycroft butted his head against Greg's shoulder. When Greg reached out and scratched behind his ears, Mycroft whined softly and nuzzled against Greg's neck, wagging his tail in gratitude. 

Greg mentally thanked whatever coincidence had brought him to see Sherlock today. After all the Holmes brothers had been through together, it took a lot for Mycroft to tell his younger brother no to anything. In this case, Mycroft likely hadn't even thought that Sherlock would do something so far-fetched. 

Greg hated the idea of his friend being left alone to cope with a fractious sibling and his young charge. The only advantage to the situation was that Mycroft was much more tactile in this form. Greg hoped that would continue through the rest of his plan. 

"I know, he's a pain. We'll make the best of it, and I won't leave you to this alone. Come on, we're going back."

* * *

Once back at Baker Street, Greg gestured Mycroft towards the couch. The dog gracefully hopped up and stretched out on the furniture, nose on his paws, while Sherlock tried to settle Rosie on the floor with some paper and crayons. She kept looking towards the sofa, though, distracted by her new animal flatmate, who was warily watching the room. 

"You've got more of the potion?" Greg asked. "Rosie won't be able to leave him alone. Don't blame her, he's lovely like that, all sleek and leggy." 

"Lestrade, I am perfectly capable of protecting my brother." Sherlock looked up from his crouch on the floor with the little girl. 

"Sure you are, sunshine. But you won't necessarily make it easy on him. And I don't see a water bowl out yet." Greg tossed his answer back over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen and set one up. "I'll be a distraction. Just promise me you'll change us both back tomorrow." 

Returning to the sitting room, Greg began taking off his coat and shoes, placing them on the guest chair, out of the way. Sherlock seemed puzzled, while Greg took a small amount of pleasure in confusing him. "Lestrade, what are you doing? The spell doesn't require you to undress!" 

"Consider them clues. In case you forget to tell John what's going on. And make sure you let him know we're expecting to be well fed." Greg stood in the middle of the sitting room, arms crossed. 

Sherlock frowned. "If you don't trust me, why are you willing to put yourself in my hands in a vulnerable position?" 

"I trust you, Sherlock, but I also know you get distracted. You may not eat or sleep normally, but the rest of us don't mind someone paying attention to our welfare. Hell, we welcome it. And I want to look out for your brother." Greg cast a fond eye towards the dog on the couch, who was pretending not to listen. "He spends so much time worrying about everyone else, he needs someone taking care of him." 

Sherlock had stood up and begun pacing, demonstrating that he was increasingly uncomfortable with the subject of the conversation. "Fine, fine, now I definitely want to hex you into something that can't talk, just to avoid hearing any more of this sentiment." 

Mycroft huffed into the sofa cushions at that term as Sherlock pulled out a vial, sprinkled the liquid on Greg, and spoke a few words. Greg felt himself fading out, only to open his eyes a few minutes later from a much lower vantage point. He was once again a shaggy grey mutt.

* * *

Greg shook himself, getting used to the feel of four legs, fur, and a tail. He quickly trotted over to the sofa, where Mycroft was already looking more alert and happier. 

Greg nosed at the greyhound, who hopped off the furniture in order to better welcome his ally. The two dogs circled each other, sniffing and licking and generally leaning on each other. They'd previously shared this experience, but not at the same time, and their dog forms had different senses and instincts to explore. 

Rosie was mesmerized by now having two canine companions. When Greg had been changed, she'd jumped up, and it was only a quick arm of Sherlock's darting out to catch her that prevented her from being transformed as well. But now, she kept inching closer to the dogs. Mycroft, of course, was the first to notice. He nudged Greg with his head and gestured towards the little girl. 

Greg spun around to face her and crouched down, tongue and tail wagging, clearly ready to play. Rosie clapped her hands, excited by the idea of a doggie who would be active with her. Sherlock hid a grin, because anything that made his little Watson happy was something to value. Feigning sternness, he cautioned Greg, "Don't get too rambunctious inside, Lestrade. I can't guarantee your safety if you disrupt my experiments." 

Greg looked up at the man who was so often a useful annoyance to him and winked before feinting towards Rosie, who loved the attention. She ducked back, then grabbed at Greg. He didn't mind playing with her, and soon they were rolling around on the floor. Mycroft was even ducking in every so often to nose at her, playing a kind of keep-away tag. 

Just then, steps were heard on the staircase. "Daddy!" Rosie yelled out. 

John had come home from the clinic ready to relax and start his weekend, only to find a sitting room containing his daughter, his partner, and two substantial dogs. He sighed, "Sherlock, don't tell me you've expanded the family already." 

Sherlock's mind stuttered just a moment at the incongruity of the reference, before he regrouped. "Family? Yes. Expanded? No. You already know them." 

"I think I would have remembered such distinctive animals. That greyhound looks expensive." Mycroft, occupied by keeping Greg between himself and Rosie, a game the little girl loved, stopped to sit and preen for a moment, elongating his neck and raising his head.

"Oh, John, you have no idea. That's Mycroft. And the scraggly one is Lestrade." 

John sat down, heavily, in his chair. "Have you been inhaling fumes again? You promised, none of that around Rosie!" 

"I would never risk Watson, John. Remember that magic shop case several weeks ago?" 

"No. Just... no. Magic is real?" 

"This isn't the first time either of them has been transformed. Mycroft needed an unbreakable disguise, and Lestrade wasn't willing to trust me with him alone." 

John reached out and petted the grey dog on the head. "Good boy, Greg." The animal looked up at him and appeared for all the world as if he was laughing. John mentally shrugged and realized he'd been asked to believe more ridiculous things in the time he'd spent with Sherlock. And these dogs were a lot friendlier than the last one they'd run into on a case. They seemed to make Rosie happy, too. "How long are they here?"

"I have been instructed," Sherlock broke off to glare at Greg, "that they are to be changed back tomorrow afternoon." 

"And how'd you learn to do magic?" John was only paying half attention to the conversation, as he watched Rosie hug the greyhound around the neck. He seemed less certain about playing with a child, while the fuzzy grey dog seemed to love everyone. Together, they were keeping her safe and entertained. 

"It seems that I am an effective wizard with the right instructions. Spells are very similar to chemical reactions. Obtaining obscure ingredients is no harder than acquiring body parts." 

"I would have expected no less from you." John gave Sherlock an apprising look that turned into a smile. "All right, then. What are we doing for dinner?" 

Sherlock was still occasionally surprised by how down-to-earth and practical John could be, even in the face of what would overwhelm another man with shock. It was one of the qualities that made him irresistible. And sometimes even left him speechless.

"Hadn't thought that far ahead, had you?" John chuckled. "Dogs need protein, and I'm knackered, so why don't we all go get fish and chips?" John looked appraisingly at the animals. "I'm guessing you don't have leashes for them?" Both animals' heads whipped around at that word, and their expressions turned unfriendly, accompanied by low growls. 

Rosie, already familiar with her playmates, asked, "Daddy, why did you make the doggies angry?" 

"Don't worry, Rosie, I won't do it again." John raised his hands, placatingly. "Alright, you two, neither one of you are going to be able to get us out of trouble this weekend, but I'll assume you can take care of any notice we get for having uncontrolled dogs later."


	2. Chapter 2

The walk down the street for supper did them all good. 

John expected Mycroft, even in dog form, to turn up his nose at the plebeian fare of fish and chips, but surprisingly, everyone enjoyed it, particularly once they made a game of it. Rosie thought it was hilarious to see Greg jumping at and catching bits of fish thrown to him, while Mycroft sat primly to the side, watching over the group, and nibbled what Rosie handed him. 

After eating in the park, Rosie led the walk home, slowly, like a princess, with a dog on either side and her hands on their necks. The animals kept her moving safely, out of the street and heading towards home. John and Sherlock followed, smiling. 

John elbowed Sherlock and muttered to him, "Look how good an uncle Mycroft can be!" 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He doesn't have much choice. It's part of his disguise." 

"Oh, you underestimate him. He's adapting very well. Surprising to see him follow Greg's lead, though." John paused for a moment and looked sideways at his companion. "Wonder what kind of dog you'd be?" 

"Please, John. If I had to be an animal, a cat would be more suitable, don't you think?" Sherlock winked at the shorter man, eliciting a laugh. 

Soon enough the group was back at the flat, hanging coats and settling in for the evening. "Time for bed, Rosie!" John swung her into his arms and took her up the stairs to clean up and change and settle down. 

"Noooooooo." She looked back over his shoulder at her pet friends, reaching out her hands for them. 

"Come on, sweetheart. The dogs will be here tomorrow. Everyone needs their rest now." John, determined, kept walking Rosie up to their room. The sound of her sniffles died away, leaving Sherlock with the animals in the sitting room. He looked a little wild and unsure. When Mycroft had shown up, wanting assistance, this had seemed like it would be a lark. He expected amusement from making his stuffy brother play with Rosie, but he didn't expect her to become attached so quickly. Then Lestrade had complicated everything with his determined protectiveness. He hoped his child-minding plan wouldn't backfire. John wouldn't be pleased if Rosie was upset. He looked again at the animals, who calmly looked back, before Greg walked closer and nudged Sherlock with his head towards the kitchen. 

"Right!" Sherlock clapped his hands together, spun around, and headed that way, followed by the two dogs. Each took a drink from the water bowl, then Sherlock refilled it and started the kettle for tea while the dogs headed for the sofa, lying on either end with their heads together in the middle. They seemed to be playing some sort of game that involved tapping their noses together, then lightly woofing, accompanied by tail wagging. 

John had come back downstairs from putting Rosie to bed and slumped into his chair. "That was a challenge. Maybe next time a little warning before we get pets? She's infatuated." 

This could be a bit not good. Sherlock asked from the kitchen, "Will Rosie be upset when Lestrade and Mycroft leave?" 

John waited to answer until Sherlock returned to the sitting room and handed him his tea. "Probably, but only for a day or so. It's typical for kids of that age. They're getting used to emotion so everything is important, but she'll move on to the next distraction after a few hours. We'll have to make sure we give her one." 

"Noted. That shouldn't be a problem. There are a number of experiments I've been meaning..." 

John interrupted as Sherlock sat down across from him. "I said distraction, not explosion," he smiled towards Sherlock. "She's a bit young for your kinds of investigations." 

"I've been working on child-friendly ways she can assist, John. I would never do anything to jeopardize Rosie. I hope you believe that." 

"Course I do. You're great with her. Much better than I expected, really." 

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, rubbing his hand back and forth across the arm of his chair, before darting his eyes towards the sofa. The dogs had settled down and looked like they were sleeping, but this was exactly the kind of thing Mycroft would have termed a tactical advantage. He wouldn't put it past his brother to be faking as part of some strategy. Still, he wouldn't let his presence stop him from being truthful with John. Finally, he responded, almost under his breath, "I had a good model." 

That said, he wasn't comfortable having any more of this discussion anywhere near his brother, no matter his shape. Changing the subject, he observed, "Perhaps I can learn more from seeing Rosie with those two. I suspect brains work differently in that form. That may be why Mycroft is more comfortable being touched by a child and affectionate with Greg. I wonder how we can test canine intelligence. Could be fascinating." He steepled his hands in front of his mouth and began contemplating experiment design.

"Or you could treat him as a person instead of an experiment and _ask_ him. Talk to him instead of you both trying to score points." John took another sip of tea. "It wouldn't be a bad thing to encourage him to feel warmly towards Rosie. He's been helpful to have on our side. I do worry about how long I'll be able to raise her this way." 

"You know you have a home in Baker Street as long as you wish, John."

"Not what I meant, Sherlock. We lead dangerous lives. As important as you are to me, she is more so. I have to make sure she'll be taken care of, no matter what." 

Sherlock had no idea what the proper response to that was, and there had already been enough difficult conversation this evening. "Of course. Good night, John." He stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Mycroft and Greg opened their eyes and looked at each other, then at the door to Sherlock's room, left open while he prepared to retire. They'd each had the same idea, so they jumped off the sofa, chased each other around the room and down the hall, and leapt onto his bed. John fruitlessly thought about yelling at them but realized he didn't want to wake his daughter, so he shrugged and finished his tea. 

When Sherlock entered his bedroom, it was to find the two sprawled out, taking up as much room as possible. "Out!" he cried, uselessly. Greg was on his back, head tilted back, looking at him upside down, while Mycroft had stretched out his legs, closed his eyes, and refused to acknowledge him. They were taking advantage of how well Sherlock had been trained to avoid loud noises after Rosie's bedtime. 

John walked down the short hall to see what had happened and snickered to himself at the sight of a perturbed detective staring at the dogs occupying the bed. "Well, they are our guests. You don't mind the sofa, anyway." 

Greg inched closer to the edge and butted his head against John's hand for a scratch. "You said you'd seen them like this before, Sherlock. Did they want to be petted then?" He rubbed Greg's fluffy head, then scratched him behind the ears, earning a tail wag. He started to reach out to Mycroft to do the same, but it turned out a Holmes glare looked remarkably similar, no matter the form. Both his flatmate and the dog were giving him a similar look, so he withdrew his hand, pretending he'd never intended to touch Mycroft. He wasn't giving off his usual "I'm in charge of everything" aura, but he still had presence, even as a greyhound. 

Instead, John looked back to Sherlock, who was answering his question, "I didn't have time for dogsitting then. I was too busy determining what had happened. When Greg was changed, I gave him to Mycroft, then once I understood the process, I changed Mycroft so he'd stop being an ass." 

"Shame. They're taking it well, and Rosie loves them," John observed. "I wish we had a better way to communicate, though. I'd like to make sure they're all right." 

"They're fine, John. If anything happened, Mycroft could tap out Morse code. And they can still hear and understand us." Mycroft acknowledged his brother with a brief head nod while Greg rolled over and started cuddling up to Mycroft, throwing a paw over him. Sherlock harrumphed, wrapped his dressing gown more tightly, and stalked back to the couch.

* * *

The next morning, John woke suddenly to discover his little girl wasn't in her bed. He breathed a few times, reminding himself not to panic, before fully waking up and heading downstairs. He'd remembered the fascinating distraction they were hosting. Sure enough, when he gently eased his head through Sherlock's bedroom door, he saw a third body in the bed. Rosie had gotten herself down the stairs and cuddled up with her new canine friends. All three were still asleep. As was, surprisingly, Sherlock on the sofa, surrounded by journals. He'd likely read until late, then drifted off. 

John headed into the kitchen and started breakfast. Soon, the smells of coffee and bacon began waking the house. When Sherlock wandered into the kitchen, ruffling his hair and yawning, John asked him to watch the cooking while he fetched Rosie. He knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door before sticking his head in and asking the dogs if they were ready for breakfast. They were curled up, snuffling, but at the sound of his voice, eyes opened, mouths yawned, heads raised, and legs were stretched. The two jumped off the bed and trotted politely through the door while John cuddled his daughter before taking her to follow them. 

The kitchen was a bit crowded with everyone present, but they all got seated and settled enough for John to serve scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, in the appropriate combinations and dishes. After eating, which was punctuated with constant reminders to Rosie to finish her breakfast before leaving the table, the dogs headed to the sitting room. Rosie, given approval, scrambled down onto the floor to follow, nearly overbalancing in her race to pet them. Greg braced her in front while Mycroft neatly nipped at the back of her pajamas and leaned back to keep her from falling down. 

This morning, she just wanted to hug them all the time. She kept reaching from one to another, in a kind of tag that involved hiding behind pieces of furniture. Greg and Mycroft were careful to keep her from getting too wound up, though, sitting quietly if she got too rambunctious until she calmed. Eventually, she was sitting down, leaning on them. The dogs curled around Rosie, held between the two as if they were a yin-yang symbol, formed with her in the center.

John, while tidying the kitchen, had been thinking of something he felt he should have been more aware of. "Sherlock?" 

"Hmmmm?" came the voice from behind the paper. 

"The dogs... they seem pretty friendly with each other. They touch a lot. And they sleep together. Does that mean Greg and Mycroft, as people, are that friendly?" 

"Why does it matter, John? Would it change how you feel about them?" 

"No, it's fine. They're cute together, now, anyway. But sleeping in the same bed with someone, even in unusual circumstances... sometimes it changes things." John fell quiet, thinking of the times he and Sherlock had done similar, relying on each other and their friendship. 

Sherlock didn't seem interested in his musings right now, though, answering brusquely, "They're _dogs_. They have a pack instinct."

"Right, right. And I still can't believe that this is actually possible. Maybe I should be asking you more about how you accomplished that." John stopped and thought a moment. "No spells in the flat, Sherlock. I'm adding them to the experiment rule." 

"Once I turn them back, I'm done. Magic is remarkably boring compared to murder."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, not enough Greg and Mycroft in this chapter, but I found it a challenge (in a good way) to try my hand at writing my first substantial Holmes & Watson scene. Chapter count has increased as a result.
> 
> I like thinking that Sherlock would do just about anything for Rosie but sometimes they aren’t that far apart in emotional development.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock suggested John take Rosie upstairs to prevent her being exposed to the transformations. It was one thing to see Greg become a dog, but the reverse might be confusing to her. He started with his brother. 

Quickly Mycroft was himself again, all proper posture standing in the middle of the sitting room. As he straightened his clothes, he hissed out through gritted teeth, "You must stop doing that!"

"It worked, didn't it?" Sherlock paused and schooled his features to look contrite. "Are you well?"

Mycroft composed himself, since Sherlock was clearly attempting to be conciliatory. "I am fine, Sherlock, thank you for asking. Your methods, as always, are unorthodox, but I do believe that my goal was met. I will be sure to be more specific if I need request your help in future." 

Greg sat guard to one side, watching them both carefully. 

"John suggested that it might be enlightening for me to ask you about your experiences, if you were amenable." Sherlock again paused, treading carefully. "I should have asked before now." 

"I would hate to disappoint you, brother mine, but I may not be able to answer all of your questions. I suspect a protective effect affects the memory and senses, as the anatomical structures differ." Mycroft retreated to the facts when treading new ground, but he wanted to encourage the tentative outreach. "However, I would be happy to provide whatever data I could." 

Greg approached Mycroft, butting up against his leg, which had Mycroft's hand petting his head almost automatically. Reminded of his presence, Mycroft asked, "Would you also be interested in speaking with Greg about his experiences? He was the first to undergo the process, after all." 

Sherlock was glad that Mycroft's anger over that experience seemed to have faded enough for him to reference it without concern. "Perhaps. He doesn't have our scientific rigor, of course, but his expressions can be entertainingly colorful." 

Just then, Rosie came running into the room, having temporarily escaped John. "Uncle Mycroft!" She hugged his leg, on the opposite side from Greg. "Will you play with me and my new dog?"

Mycroft temporarily felt a tinge of envy, as the young lady apparently didn't miss having him as a pet. But then, given a choice between spending time with the two of them, anyone would choose the outgoing Lestrade. He let the emotion flow over him and away, as it was nothing unusual for him. 

Mycroft crouched to her level. "I will be happy to spend some time with you, but I'm not sure Greg will be staying for long." 

"But he's so fun! And cuddly!" The little girl threw her arms around the dog's neck. Greg licked her cheek, causing her to giggle, and wagged his tail. 

"That he is. Perhaps we should ask him?" Mycroft suggested. "What would you like to do, Rosie?"

"Can we go back to the park and play catch?"

Mycroft placed his hand gently on the scruff of Greg's neck, behind Rosie's little arms. "What do you think, Greg? Interested in a little more exercise in this form?" 

The dog looked up into Mycroft's grey eyes and emitted a small woof before nodding. Then he licked Mycroft's cheek, which made Rosie happy. "Look, he likes you too! He's giving you kisses."

* * *

John welcomed the chance to let Mycroft look after his daughter for a short while, with the requisite cautions and instructions. Really, how complicated did he think child-minding was? However, Mycroft realized that the procedure gave her father a certain amount of comfort, soothing himself with the idea of doing all the right things to take care of his little girl. And it had been a long time since Mycroft had had direct care of someone so young, although much of it was still there, deep in his memory. Those memories weren't as painful to access these days, given Sherlock's maturity and their increasing recognition of their similarities, thankfully. 

The trip to the park was enlightening. Mycroft expected to see Rosie and Greg run around in the sunshine, which they did, but it was touching to see how often they looked to him or ran back to make sure he was there. Mycroft smiled to see their enthusiasm and energy. When the game turned into playing keep-away around his legs, it was time to go. 

He knelt, and his long arm snagged Rosie close. "Time to go home, little miss." It was a sign of how tired she was that she didn't argue much, instead snuggling into him and putting her head on his shoulder. "Kay, Mycroft. Thank you for playing with us." He lifted her and carried her back, with Greg trotting by his side.

Back in the flat, for a moment, he didn't want to hand her back. Her faith in him to protect and carry her made up for his earlier uncertainties. There was comfort in her presence. Mycroft better understood his brother's earlier decision, empathizing with the desire to give the little girl what he could to make her happy. 

John took her back upstairs for a proper nap after thanking Mycroft for tiring her out. Greg laid down in the middle of the rug. Sherlock, stretched out in his chair, nodded at Mycroft, who stood in the center of the room. "You're good with her." 

"No need to sound surprised, Sherlock," Mycroft responded. "She's important to you, and that makes her important to me."

Sherlock seemed momentarily taken aback to have the sentiment so baldly expressed. Quietly, he answered, "Thank you. It's reassuring to John that she's happy and safe. I will do whatever I can for that to stay true." 

Having enough of that conversation, Mycroft knelt to pet Greg, head to tail, while he could, and changed the subject. "Sherlock, are you ready to change him back? Our afternoon is drawing to a close." 

"Of course, Mycroft. But first, John had another observation that may be relevant. He noted that you both seemed ... friendlier as animals." From his chair, Sherlock looked down at Mycroft's hand, still ruffling through Greg's fur, then back up. 

Mycroft's eyes followed his before returning to Sherlock's face. "I'm aware, thank you. It was a comfort to have someone else in a similar situation close by. Your goddaughter is lovely but doesn't always understand her own physicality. Gregory is much more suited to her enthusiasm, and I found his presence ... reassuring." Mycroft was highly conscious that they were discussing someone who was in the room, if not entirely himself. 

"Is that all?" Sherlock probed, gingerly. 

"I appreciate your concern, but I don't think this is a fruitful area for us to discuss at this time. It would be premature for me to comment before other conversations have taken place." Mycroft again cut his eyes towards the dog. 

Sherlock recognized a polite brush-off, particularly since Mycroft's descent into politico speak signaled his discomfort. "Of course, Mycroft. I know you know Lestrade is a good man, and he has been extremely valuable to me and to our family. A continuing association, in whatever form, would not be unwelcome." 

Mycroft smiled, and his face softened. "You do not need to remind me of that. I value his contributions greatly, and I appreciate your favorable perspective. He cares a great deal for you, you know." 

"I am not the only one, brother mine. He was quite protective of you yesterday." 

"It is not the first time. I am lucky to have him in close acquaintance." Sherlock suspected that was as outgoing as Mycroft would be at this time. Holmes accords would never be simple, but Sherlock was confident his message had been received. Mycroft continued, "Perhaps you could restore him now?" He stepped back from the dog and stood up, giving him space for the change. 

Sherlock went through the ritual, and Greg reappeared as himself. He shivered and smiled. "Aren't you two kind. I could hear you, you know." 

"Intentionally, Greg. You deserve to be aware of your importance to us." Mycroft returned the smile. "I fear I must say farewell, however, as I need to ascertain that circumstances are now under control." He turned to his brother. "Thank you for your generous hospitality, Sherlock. Please give my regards to Dr. Watson and his charming daughter." 

"Hold on, Mycroft." Greg reached out a hand to his arm. "I don't want to keep you from your important situation, whatever it is, but I could murder a burger. You probably need some protein as well. You up for dinner?" 

"How considerate of you. That's an exceptional idea. Would it be too forward of me to suggest we meet at yours in an hour before departing to partake?" 

"Great by me. See you then." Greg physically turned Mycroft toward the door and gave him a pat on the back as a goodbye. At the sight, Sherlock took a moment to reprocess. Mycroft seemed comfortable with the light manhandling, which meant that there was more to the two's interaction than bleed-through from their canine versions. Mycroft also let Greg place himself behind him, indicating trust. 

Sherlock would have to thank John for his insight. He was glad he'd taken advantage of their time together to touch on the subject. Although improved in recent years, Mycroft's overprotectiveness could get in the way of his older brother's growing friendship with Lestrade if Sherlock hadn't been clear he wouldn't be bothered. Mycroft deserved that kind of friendship, particularly with the most trustworthy person he knew.

* * *

Greg appreciated the chance to shower, change, and get used to two legs before he'd see Mycroft again. The time alone with his thoughts might not have been the best idea, though. He was a little concerned. He'd jumped into protecting Mycroft on instinct, but he wasn't sure how the diplomat felt about that. The conversation he'd overheard, what he remembered about it, seemed to indicate that there wouldn't be a problem, but better to be sure. 

The doorbell rang. When Greg opened it, he was surprised and pleased to see that Mycroft had changed into something more casual than his workwear. The jumper and corduroys looked soft and touchable. Perhaps that choice was part of his adjustment process. 

"Come in, Mycroft. Everything work out ok?" 

"The ruse was successful, and my absence achieved its purpose." 

"Glad it wasn't all for naught, then." 

"There were many benefits to Sherlock's unusual solution to the problem, actually." 

"I wanted to ask you about that before we go out. Well, apologize rather." Greg thought this conversation might be more comfortable if they were sitting on the sofa, but he had to get it off his chest before they settled down anywhere, in case Mycroft wanted to leave, so standing by the closed door it was. 

He continued, "I didn't mean to insert myself in your plan. I just jumped without thinking. It's not my place to assume you need protection." 

Mycroft reached out his hand to slowly stroke down Greg's arm, much as he had petted him before, and his eyes followed his hand. "I was flattered, Greg. Not many people are willing to demonstrate caring in such a risky and committed fashion. You have my gratitude." Mycroft looked up to Greg's face, with a small smile. "And you're quite enjoyable to cuddle with in that form."

Greg returned the smile. "Anytime! 'm glad you weren't put off. Thanks for your trust in me. I know how important that is." He put his arm around Mycroft's waist and pulled him close, putting his head on the taller man's shoulder. "So are you, especially like this. Let's go get that burger. I'm going to need some energy for the night ahead. Assuming you don't have plans?"

Mycroft leant his head against Greg's. "Only with you." He closed his eyes and turned their embrace into a proper hug, holding Greg close. At the moment, he felt as though this was all he needed.


End file.
